


Steal the Warm Wind, Tired Friend

by ThreeCrowsInATrenchcoat



Series: Wash Away the Rain (Winter Soldier AU) [7]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Non-Graphic Violence, Swearing, Team Let Virgil Say Fuck, Winter Soldier AU, i say to myself, let them be happy, the boys are just trying to heal, very brief mention in chapter 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27510265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeCrowsInATrenchcoat/pseuds/ThreeCrowsInATrenchcoat
Summary: Recovery isn’t linear.For every two steps forward, there would be at least one step back. That was to be expected. That was how this worked.But knowing that didn’t make it any easier.(or: a glimpse at the first month of healing, from Janus, Virgil and Remus' perspectives.)
Series: Wash Away the Rain (Winter Soldier AU) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929958
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	1. Month One: Janus

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend reading previous parts of this series first, at least parts 1-5. But the tl:dr is: Remus and Janus are ex-brainwashed assassins, just learning to be people again.
> 
> Please check the tags. This story involves discussion of missing/untrustworthy memories, implied torture and brainwashing, and just general Dealing With Trauma stuff. Feel free to ask for more details if a particular tag worries you.
> 
> Enjoy!

Recovery isn’t linear.

For every two steps forward, there would be at least one step back. That was to be expected. That was how this worked. 

But knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

\- - -

The first day was easy. Janus slept through most of the first day. When he woke up, he learned that Project Imagination was under investigation by just about every federal agency with jurisdiction. That was satisfying to hear, and it helped to quell the noise in the back of his mind a bit. 

Then Remus woke up, and wrecked a small but intense amount of havoc on the household. In the span of about two minutes, he had startled Roman, conked Patton on the head with a cast iron pan, and thrown Virgil across his own kitchen. Janus got to him before any further bodily harm could be inflicted, and he spent the rest of the day thanking whatever god up there who cared to listen that the override code he’d found in the Duke’s file actually worked. 

And that’s when things stopped being easy. 

The first of the difficulties was that, due to his injuries, Janus was more or less confined to the couch.

Being partially immobile was infuriating enough even without the looks of pity cast his way any time someone passed through the livingroom. He knew he’d be getting those looks anyway- they’d all read his file, except for Patton, who hadn’t been able to get past the first three pages before dissolving into tears- but there was something especially demeaning about receiving them while being unable to lift anything heavier than a plate of food.

Virgil had tried to talk him into taking his bed, pointing out that the couch probably wasn’t helping with the healing process. But when just the thought of finding himself alone in a small room with the door shut was enough to set off the beginnings of a panic response in his mind, Janus had insisted there was no way he could displace Virgil from his own bed when already they were showing him such kindness.

(It most certainly did not have anything to do with how his palms immediately started sweating and his brain started cycling through the various memories of Deceit, alone in the quiet for days or weeks at a time, and of Janus, in the days before he was Deceit, tearing his fingers bloody trying to get out out of the closet-sized room they’d kept him in.)

So he stayed in the livingroom, sharing the L-shaped couch with Remus.

Who, coincidentally, was the second difficulty. 

Not intentionally, of course. He couldn’t be blamed, and Janus didn’t. Especially after going through the Duke’s file and confirming what he’d been suspecting since their encounter in the lab that night. It seemed, in an effort to retain control over an asset that was rapidly regaining his free will, the scientists at Project Imagination had put Remus through as much hell as they could manage in one day. And it had worked, sort of; the Duke hadn’t even recognized him, and had no qualms about murdering him with his bare hands. Or trying to, anyway. Frankly it was a wonder Remus had any autonomy left at all at this point. 

Though, given how big of a pain in the ass the Duke had been, Janus supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. 

He had been wary of Remus, at first. As the primary target of the Duke’s last kill order, Janus thought he had every right to be wary. But, as it turned out, it was him that Remus looked to for direction for just about everything in that first week. Janus supposed it made sense- he wasn’t sure Remus had fully grasped what had happened, and Janus was the one who had used the mission override code on him. His conditioning would push him to look to Janus. 

Or maybe a familiar face just soothed whatever amount of the Duke still remained rattling about in Remus’ mind. 

Regardless of the reason, Remus stuck close to him for most of the first week, and it grated on Roman’s nerves in a subtly obvious manner. 

Roman was what Janus would consider the third on his list of difficulties if it weren’t a little unfair. He couldn’t really blame Roman. Remus was his brother, after all. But the problem was that he expected his brother, and was frustrated when he didn’t get that. 

He tried to hide it. He tried very hard, but Janus had always been quietly observant. He didn’t miss the way Roman blurted out childhood memories with a hopeful look on his face. Or the tense set to his eyes when Remus shrugged off his touch. The disappointment in his tone when he excused himself from the conversation. Janus saw it all. 

But he didn’t think Remus did, not until around two A.M. near the end of the first week, when he was dragged out of his light, fitful sleep by Remus’ voice just beside his ear.

“Do you think they hate me?”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t wake me up like that. Do you want me to stab you?”

Remus, who was sitting on the floor with his chin resting on the couch cushion, just blinked owlishly up at him. 

“Why, do you have a knife?”

“I have three on my body and two more hidden in this couch. I wasn’t kidding,” A pause, while he willed his racing heart to slow. He laid down again, shifting onto his side so he could meet Remus’ eyes. “What did you say?”

“Do you think they hate me?” Remus said again. 

Janus had to admit, the question did surprise him. Remus had given no indication that he particularly cared what the others thought of him, and he certainly had never gotten that impression from the Duke. Still, it wasn’t as if they were experts in the other, not when they were both trying to remember how to be people.

“I don’t think they hate you,” Janus settled on, when he wasn’t quite sure how to answer. “I think they’re still trying to figure us out.”

“What’s there to figure out? We’re not aliens. That’d be cool, though.”

Janus chuckled dryly. “Just… give it time.”

“The nerd and the onion man are afraid of me,” Remus sighed. He pulled back from the couch, and drew his knees up to his chest. “And the purple one’s always glaring.”

“That’s just Virgil’s default expression,” Janus huffed. “And I know you know Logan and Patton’s names.” Remus just shrugged, but Janus let it go. “Give them both a little credit. If they were actually afraid, I don’t think they would let us stay in their home.”

“Roman’s guilty.”

“Oh, so you remember his name no problem?”

“Starts with an R just like mine.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. What is he guilty of?

“He feels guilty, I mean. Thinks all this-” he gestures about his own head, “-is his fault or something.”

“Mm. Is it?”

Remus shrugged. “I dunno. He’s not the one who cut me open, I’m pretty sure. Don’t really remember much from before though.”

Janus didn’t have much in the way of comforting words, but he wasn’t entirely sure Remus was actually seeking comfort. More than anything, it seemed he was just speaking his mind, as he was wont to do. So what he offered instead was, “Everything seems worse this time of night. Go back to sleep.”

Remus did, eventually, and he seemed happier the next morning. 

And so the week passed, and gradually the others had to go back to their lives. They all had jobs and responsibilities, after all, and they couldn’t stick around the house all day to babysit two ex-brainwashed assassins. 

On the bright side, it seemed Thomas, whoever he was, was very good. He’d gotten the right people invested in the story, and Project Imagination was shut down within days. This meant Janus could stop spending every waking moment on guard against some kind of retaliation for what he and the others had done. Breaking into the headquarters to steal evidence had been a risky decision; they knew Virgil and Logan’s home address, of course, and had also apparently known the whole time that Janus had come here for sanctuary- a fact that, after Remus had told him, ended up keeping him awake for nearly 48 hours.

But… now they were gone. And Janus should have been able to relax. But, for some reason, his anxiety only seemed to worsen. 

He didn’t notice it initially. At first, he just felt on edge, like there was a faint current of electricity buzzing beneath the surface of his skin. It was troublesome enough that he just couldn’t sit still. He paced around the house, checking the doors and windows for the thousandth time, only to get up and do it again when it failed to stem his unconscious fears. 

If the others noticed, which he had no doubt they did, they were kind enough not to try and stop him. And honestly, if it were just that, it would have been fine. 

But partway into the second week, Logan came up on his left side. He didn’t mean to, it was an honest mistake that really should not have had the impact it did. But Janus had already been on edge the whole week, and Logan’s sudden appearance on his blind side set off a chain reaction of small disasters. 

He flinched away from Logan on instinct and, having in that moment entirely forgotten where he was, ended up bumping right into Patton. Patton lost his grip on the dish he’d been rinsing. He dropped it in the sink, at least, so it didn’t shatter- but the loud clatter was enough to send Janus into full panic mode. He pulled away from Patton so quickly that he stumbled, and might have fallen completely if Logan hadn’t reached out to put a hand on each shoulder to stabilize him. It was kind, but the contact really was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Janus was immediately filled with the uncontrollable need to get away. He twisted out of Logan’s grip and fled down the hall and into the bathroom.

Later, he would wonder why the bathroom. But as he ducked into the room and shut the door behind him, he felt safe. Safe enough, at least, to sit down there on the floor and wait for his body to stop shaking. 

It could have been a few minutes, or it could have been a number of hours, but eventually, there was a knock on the door, followed by Virgil’s voice.

“Hey Janus, you good?”

Janus swallowed around the tightness in his throat. Pathetic, really. But he couldn’t find his voice.

“Logan feels bad for startling you,” Virgil offered. “He forgot you can’t see on that side.”

“It’s fine,” Janus managed, when what he really meant was _leave me alone._

“Alright,” Virgil said after a minute. “Um, I’ll just… leave you to it, then.”

He lingered another minute or so before he did, indeed, leave Janus to it.

Janus ended up hiding out in the bathroom for the rest of the day. He didn’t feel guilty- the rational side of his brain knew there was a second bathroom in the house, and the irrational side just didn’t care. He knew there was no reason to be behaving like this, and he told himself as much. It didn’t help; it wasn’t until late in the night that he could will himself off the cold tile floor and out into the house. 

It was late enough that everyone else had retired to their rooms. Except for Patton, who was sat at the kitchen table dressed in pale blue scrubs. He glanced up from his coffee cup when Janus entered, and gave a small tired smile. The large bruise across his cheek had finally started to fade from black to grey.

“Hey kiddo, good to see you! Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” Janus answered. It was the truth. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Patton said quickly. “Honest. We understand. You know, we’ve done this before.”

Janus quirked and eyebrow, and Patton laughed.

“Ok, maybe not exactly like this. But you’re… a little like Virgil, actually. I think I lost count of how many dishes he’s broken.”

Janus, while certainly curious, didn’t have the mental energy to ask for more of that particular story. So instead, he slid into a chair at the table. Not next to Patton, but nearby.

“I have to go to work soon,” Patton said gently. “But I saved you a plate from dinner. It’s on the stove, if you want it.”

Janus’ throat tightened again, but he managed a sincere “Thank you.”

Patton smiled at him, but didn’t say anything more. Janus sat with him while he drank his coffee. Then, after Patton had left, he ate. 

Logan apologized the next day. He seemed genuinely distressed, so Janus admitted that he had already been feeling anxious. And somehow, saying it outloud made him feel better.

Of course, Logan didn’t leave it at that.

“Is there a particular reason for your anxiety?” he asked. “Can you pinpoint what may be causing it to occur now?”

“You mean, besides the…” Janus searched for the right word. “Obvious?”

“Well, yes, that is a fair point.”

“I wish it were something specific. I so enjoy being anxious for no reason.”

“I would not expect anyone to enjoy- ah. You were being sarcastic.”

Janus gave him a half smirk, and Logan adjusted his glasses. Janus was beginning to recognize that action as equivalent to Virgil’s nervous habit of picking at the hem of his hoodies.

“Do you play chess?” Logan asked suddenly. Janus bit off a comment about how the evil scientists who brainwashed him most certainly played chess with him every Sunday morning. 

“Can’t say that I do,” he said instead.

“I could teach you,” Logan actually sounded unsure as he spoke. “If you would like. Perhaps it would help to have something else to focus on.”

Janus shrugged. “Sure, it’s not as if I have anywhere else to be.”

He ended up liking chess quite a lot. It became tradition for him and Logan to play a game after dinner. It actually did help- he no longer felt the need to pace the house throughout the day, and he found that he was sleeping easier by the end of the week. 

It took him a further two weeks to finally beat Logan.


	2. Month One: Virgil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery isn’t linear.
> 
> For every two steps forward, there would be at least one step back. That was to be expected. That was how this worked.
> 
> But knowing that didn’t make it any easier.
> 
> (or: a glimpse at the first month of healing, from Janus, Virgil and Remus' perspectives.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend reading previous parts of this series first, at least parts 1-5. But the tl:dr is: Remus and Janus are ex-brainwashed assassins, just learning to be people again.
> 
> Please check the tags. This story involves discussion of missing/untrustworthy memories, implied torture and brainwashing, and just general Dealing With Trauma stuff. Feel free to ask for more details if a particular tag worries you.
> 
> Enjoy!

“And Logan’s still scanning the second file, but I think you should be getting the first batch any minute.”

“Yeah, it just showed up.” Thomas paused for a few minutes. Then, “Geez, Virge, you weren’t kidding. This is some awful stuff.”

Virgil shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His hands went to pick at the hem of his hoodie.

“Yeah, I… I know. I haven’t really gotten to read through it all yet, but honestly… I’m kinda scared to.”

In the video call window, Thomas gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Is everyone ok, at least?” The _are_ you _ok?_ was implied. Virgil glanced behind him toward the livingroom, where Janus, Patton, Roman, and the unconscious Remus were gathered. Patton was cleaning Janus’ wounds yet again, while Roman sat in silence, clutching his brother’s hand. 

Looking back to his laptop, where Thomas waited patiently, Virgil answered, “I don’t know. But I think we will be.”

Thomas gave him a bright smile. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad. And seriously, Virge, if there’s anything else I can do for you guys, you gotta let me know, ok?”

Virgil didn’t get a chance to answer, because at that point, Logan joined him in the kitchen. 

“Hello, Thomas.”

“Hey, Logan! I just got your second e-mail, is this all of it?”

“It is.” Logan sat down at the table, close to Virgil so he could see Thomas on the laptop screen. “Will that be sufficient?” 

“Yeah, I mean, there’s enough here to bring down a small government, probably,” Thomas said with an uncomfortable laugh. “Valerie, Joan, and Terrence are gonna have a field day with this.”

Virgil felt a bit of the tension he’d been carrying ease at those words. His relief must have been palpable, because Logan gave him a look. 

“I’m just, glad to hear that, is all,” Virgil said. “This is… all this is a lot to take in. I still haven’t fully processed that this, like. Actually happened.”

“Yeah, bud, I’m with you on that one,” Thomas laughed, a little less uncomfortable this time. “I’m gonna go ahead and get started with this, ok? I’ll keep you guys updated.”

“Thank you again, for doing this,” Virgil said quickly. Thomas was doing this at no small risk to himself and his colleagues, if things didn’t go right. But Thomas waved him off.

“You guys are family. Your friends are my friends.”

Virgil, as he always did after talking to Thomas no matter the circumstances, felt warm and happy. They said their goodbyes and ended the call, leaving just the two of them there in the kitchen. Virgil turned to Logan.

“Are _you_ ok?” he asked. “Going in with us like that was really brave of you.”

“It needed to be done,” Logan responded. Completely circumventing the question. “I am just thankful it went as smoothly as it did.”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Yeah, it went real smooth, what with all the shooting and stuff.”

Logan smiled the smile that meant he was trying hard not to laugh. “Well, it certainly could have gone smoother.” A pause. “But it also could have gone worse.”

Virgil’s own smile faded. “Yeah. Yeah it could have,” he said. “I’m serious though, Logan. Thank you. You really didn’t have to do this. It means the world to me that you did.” 

At that, Logan looked vaguely embarrassed. He adjusted his glasses. “It’s like Thomas said. You’re family.”

Virgil hugged him. Logan should know better than to say such gross sappy things and not expect to get hugged.

They all crashed hard that night. Thankfully, they had all had the foresight to call out of work for the next couple of days. Virgil and Logan had gotten someone to cover their classes, and even Roman had admitted his drama students would probably be ok with a few canceled rehearsals. That meant the entire household could sleep in- something that was sorely needed after the night they’d all had.

Virgil and Patton were in the middle of fixing a breakfast that was so late they may as well just call it lunch, when Remus woke up.

Virgil realized what was happening before Patton did, but he didn’t make it to them before Remus had grabbed the nearby cast iron pan and swung it at Patton’s head. In the struggle that ensued, Virgil managed to wrench away the pan, only to find himself thrown hard against the kitchen counter.

And then Janus was there, and then Remus was laying unconscious on the floor. 

Back still throbbing where he had struck the counter, Virgil hesitantly approached Janus.

“The hell happened?” he asked. He hadn’t seen Janus hit Remus; in fact, it looked like Janus had just spoken a few words and a moment later, Remus was on the ground. 

Janus looked vaguely disgusted. “Override code,” he said, sounding a little like someone had just spit in his food. “It was in his file. I wasn’t sure it would work.”

“Override code?” Virgil felt a little sick. “To override what?” 

“Whatever his current orders are.” A pause. Janus furrowed his brow. “In this case, I think he had orders to kill me. So you can imagine my relief.”

An override code, like Remus was a fucking machine. The sick feeling in his stomach turned to anger. 

“Do you have one of those?” 

Janus looked away, which really was all the answer he needed. “It’s a longer string of words. But, yes.”

“I hope these people rot in hell,” Virgil muttered. Mostly to himself, but loud enough that Janus could have heard. If he did, he gave no indication. 

“Everyone ok?” Patton’s voice from the doorway startled them both. “What happened?”

“Yeah, Pat, we’re ok,” Virgil answered. He didn’t know how to answer Patton’s second question, so instead he said, “Will you help me get Remus back to the couch?”

After that, things were a little easier, at least on the Remus front. His second waking was significantly less dramatic. Roman even got a hug out of it. It was all disgustingly sweet. 

Now that the immediate danger had more or less passed, with Project Imagination under investigation and Remus showing no indications of wanting to murder any of them, Virgil was able to pay more attention to Janus. It was clear- at least to Virgil, who had learned Janus’ tells a long time ago, because Janus had never liked people knowing he was hurt- that his injuries were bothering him. Virgil wasn’t sure how long cracked ribs took to heal, and he knew Janus had wounded himself further the night of the break-in. His movements were slow, and standing up took him more effort than it should. And there was no way sleeping on the couch was doing him any favors. 

“You should take my bed tonight,” Virgil said to him, after watching Janus struggle through another morning of the aches and pains that came with sleeping on the couch. “There’s no way that couch is helping you heal.”

Janus gave him an odd look. Then, “The couch is perfectly fine.”

“If it’s fine for you, it’s fine for me. Seriously, Janus, I can see you’re hurting. You really should sleep in my room.”

Was that panic that flashed across Janus’ face? It was only there a moment, before Janus shook his head and plastered on a sickeningly fake smile. 

“I won’t kick you out of your own bed, Virgil. You have all been incredibly kind to me as is. I don’t want to take any more from you.”

Virgil might have pushed. He and Janus had always been evenly matched in terms of their stubbornness. But Virgil didn’t miss the way Janus’ hands had started shaking. So he dropped it. 

(And later, when he had finally steeled himself enough to sit down and read through the file, he understood.)

Virgil was willing to admit that he had no idea what to make of Remus. He hadn’t really known what to expect, honestly. He’d never known the guy; all he really had to go off of were Roman’s rose-tinted stories. Well, and what Janus told him about the Duke. Which… frankly, he’d prefer not to think about. 

If he had been expecting anything, it might have been for Remus to be more volatile. But he was strangely subdued, sticking close to Janus and avoiding contact with the others wherever possible. Even Roman, it seemed. 

Virgil asked Patton and Logan for their thoughts on Remus one evening after Roman had already gone to bed. 

“I mean, I know he’s gone through hell. They both have,” Virgil said, after expressing his surprise at Remus’ behavior. “But, I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t expecting him to be so quiet. I have no idea what he needs, or if we’re doing anything wrong, you know?”

“I have been curious about that myself,” Logan admitted. “However, having spent some time studying his file, I believe I may have some insights.”

Patton looked a little distressed, but Virgil motioned for Logan to keep going. 

“Based on Remus’ initial psychological profile, it seems the, uh… _they_ , considered Remus to be a particularly headstrong individual. Patton, would you agree with that assessment?”

Patton shrugged, looking a little wet-eyed. “I mean, I really only saw him a few times when Roman was getting treatment. I guess he was pretty headstrong. He was always arguing with the doctors. Not anything bad!” he added hastily. “He just cared about Roman so much! He wanted to make sure they were doing what was best for Roman.”

“Loyal, strong-willed, protective. Those are all admirable traits, and they took note of them. In addition to his excellent physical condition, those traits made him an ideal candidate.”

“What does that have to do with him now?” Virgil asked.

“I was getting to that, Virgil. His strong will meant they had to break him very systematically. Unlike Janus, most of the things they did were psychological rather than physical-”

That seemed to be all Patton could handle, because he stood up suddenly and left the kitchen without a word. Virgil gave Logan a hard stare.

“Nice going.”

“You brought it up first, Virgil. I’m merely stating facts.”

“You’re saying these things like they’re nothing. Like we’re just talking about the weather.” Virgil tried to soften his tone. “Doesn’t this stuff bother you?”

“Of course it does. These things are terrible.” Logan worried at his lower lip for a moment, probably debating how to phrase what he would say next. Virgil let him think, and he continued after a moment. “But Virgil, these are things that have happened, whether we like it or not. If we are to help Remus and Janus heal, then we need to be able to talk openly about what has happened, so that we can best address what it is they need.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Virgil sighed. “But at least with Patton and Roman, can you try to be a little less direct?”

Logan shifted uncomfortably, but then he nodded. “Ok. I can try.”

Virgil still wasn’t sure what to make of Remus, but. It had only been a week. And he knew first-hand that these things take time. 

The news that Project Imagination was officially shut down was not met with quite as much fanfare as one might have expected. Still, Virgil was happy to hear it. It felt like the end of a rather short but intense chapter.

Janus’ reaction to the news was odd. Virgil expected that he would have relaxed, stopped jumping at any strange sound; but the opposite is what happened. The day after hearing the news, Janus took to pacing the house. It was clearly painful- there was a tightness to his jaw that made it incredibly obvious he was trying to hide how much it hurt to be constantly getting up and sitting down again. 

But Virgil didn’t really have the heart to try and stop him, because the pattern was all-too familiar. He could remember when he’d done the same thing, when his traumatized brain insisted that he wasn’t safe, that he needed to be on-guard and keep an eye on the perimeter at all times. Even so many years later, he still felt anxious when he had to sit in a restaurant where he couldn’t see the exits. 

He did consider bringing it up with Janus, but he wasn’t sure how Janus would take it. And then something set Janus off, and it was only a crash in the kitchen that alerted him to it.

“What happened?” he asked, upon glancing into the kitchen and finding matching expressions of shock and concern on both Logan and Patton’s faces. “Everyone ok?”

Patton spoke first. “Everything’s ok! I dropped a dish, and I think it startled Janus.”

“It was my fault,” Logan said quickly. He adjusted his glasses as Virgil looked at him. “I… I came up on his left side. I had forgotten.”

“It’s ok, L, these things happen,” Virgil said. “Where did Janus go?”

“Sergeant Shaw? He just locked himself in the bathroom. Has anyone seen my script binder?”

All three of them jumped at Roman’s voice. He gave them an incredulous look from the doorway. Virgil sighed.

“Manchurian Candidate? Really?”

Roman shrugged. “Seemed fitting.”

Virgil decided to let Janus cool off for a while before knocking on the bathroom door. Somewhat unsurprisingly, Janus refused to come out, so Virgil left him alone. He came out eventually, and neither of them said a word about the incident. 

And then Logan taught Janus how to play chess. 

“I didn’t know you liked chess,” Virgil said to Janus. Which was an outright lie, because Janus _hated_ chess. Or he had in high school, anyway. He used to make fun of the chess club kids. 

If Janus caught the lie, he made no indication. “I’m enjoying it. Logan is a good teacher.”

“He’s just ecstatic to have someone new to play with. The rest of us got tired of losing to him all the time.”

Janus chuckled at that. “Give me three weeks,” he said. 

(He did it in two, the bastard.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr @threecrowsinatrenchcoat, please come and yell with me/at me.
> 
> Title from "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden, as is the series title.


	3. Month One: Remus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery isn’t linear.
> 
> For every two steps forward, there would be at least one step back. That was to be expected. That was how this worked.
> 
> But knowing that didn’t make it any easier.
> 
> (or: a glimpse at the first month of healing, from Janus, Virgil and Remus' perspectives.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend reading previous parts of this series first, at least parts 1-5. But the tl:dr is: Remus and Janus are ex-brainwashed assassins, just learning to be people again.
> 
> Please check the tags. This story involves discussion of missing/untrustworthy memories, implied torture and brainwashing, and just general Dealing With Trauma stuff. Feel free to ask for more details if a particular tag worries you. Also warning for typical Remus-related commentary. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Ok, so. Shit was fucked.

That’s what he got from Dee’s- er… _Janus’-_ explanation. Everything was fucked, and the two of them were fucked _up._

Which honestly wasn’t news to him, so he wasn’t sure why Dee was making a big deal out of it.

 _Janus._ Dammit.

Janus wasn’t the only one making a big deal out of it, to be fair. There were other people here, too, who were making a big deal out of it, what with the _pity_ and the _concern_ ; and if Remus were being completely and totally honest with himself, he’d admit that he was kind of wary of these other people. Especially the one who looked like him.

Roman- because despite the weird staticky haze that had settled over him, Remus didn’t think he could ever forget that name again- unnerved a very big part of him. However, a smaller, more fragmented collection of parts of him wanted nothing more than to be near Roman. Those pieces felt safe around Roman, and they bitched and moaned whenever Roman wasn’t around.

But the problem was that more often than not, these pieces were scattered across his mind or lost somewhere in the static, and finding them was a little like finding a needle in a haystack. Or a decomposing body in the woods during a heatwave: difficult and gross all around, with a nonzero possibility of getting stabbed. 

If he could just get all those pieces to stay together, they would probably amount to a total much larger than that one big chunk of himself that wanted nothing to do with Roman. But every time he tried to go off into the static to collect the fragments, it felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, and one wrong move would send him hurtling off into a nothingness he would never be able to climb out of. 

And that scared him. He had just gotten his sense of self back. He didn’t want to lose it again. 

Being near Janus calmed the static, so he stuck close. It wasn’t exactly hard to do. Janus moved at a snail’s pace these days, even though Remus knew he could move like lightning when he needed to. But Janus was hurt, and Remus had done the hurting; and there was probably guilt in there somewhere, but he didn’t really care to look for it.

The others were… well, the others just _were._ He watched them go about their days with curiosity. They were all so different, and that fascinated him. 

There was the fluffy sunshine one- Patton, the onion man, his mind supplied. All smiles and cheer that sat like a fragile mask over something much darker lurking beneath. He regarded Remus warily; it was the sort of regards one would give to a wounded animal that had already lashed out once before. Which was fair, because he _had,_ and the massive bruise blooming across Patton’s face was the proof. But that didn’t stop the smiles, nor the kind words, from being offered freely, despite most of their interactions going something like this:

“Hey, Remus, I was wondering if you’d like to choose what we have for dinner tonight?”

Remus looked at him blankly. Patton was standing just out of arm’s reach, and Remus couldn’t think of a single kind of food except spaghetti, and spaghetti reminded him too much of brains, especially when there was marinara sauce involved, because most of the time when he saw brains, they were also covered in blood and-

He didn’t notice he had pressed himself firmly against Dee’s side until a hand squeezing his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. Dee- _Janus-_ gave him a gentle look, and must have seen in his eyes that Remus was back, because he withdrew his hand. 

“Anything’s fine,” Remus said. He tasted copper on his tongue. Patton seemed troubled, but didn’t push. He never pushed. 

When they introduced him to the nerd, Logan, Remus' first thought was _this guy's got a stick rammed all the way up his ass,_ and for the first couple days, Logan did nothing to alter that perception. He wore polo shirts and a tie, which kind of toed the line between pretentious and pathetic, and spoke like he'd swallowed a thesaurus. He acted like he was the smartest person in the room at any given time, and what was worse, he actually seemed to _believe_ he was the smartest person in the room at any given time; and Remus probably would have gotten tired of him very quickly.

Would have, if Logan wasn't the only other person in the house besides Janus who didn't look at him like he was fucking nuts whenever he spoke. Even more, he actually seemed to entertain some of Remus' comments and, more than once, asked follow up questions when Remus spouted off whatever random fact had come to mind. 

So yeah. The nerd was alright. He didn't hang around Remus and Janus all that much but when he did, he was alright. 

Then there was the grumpy purple one. _Virgil._ If Patton was sunshine personified, then Virgil was a walking stormcloud. The thing about Virgil though, was that he was horribly, painfully, _disgustingly_ easy to read, and he very badly pretended to be otherwise. And actually, it seemed like everyone else fell for it, even Janus, which was weird to Remus, because DeeDee always seemed to know what he was thinking even when he himself wasn’t sure half the time. 

But Virgil was easy. You didn’t look to the face though, because the face was always glaring. It was, as Janus would put it later, his “default expression.” So you couldn’t look to the face. You had to look everywhere else. And once he figured that out, Remus could have entire conversations with Virgil without having to say a word, and they looked like this:

Remus and Virgil nearly collided in the hall when Virgil came rushing out of his room in a hurry, his phone in his hand and his heavy bag slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Virgil said without words, speaking instead with the sharp step back, the lowered angle of his gaze, and the way his free hand fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. 

“You’re fine,” Remus answered with only a shrug. He stepped back to allow Virgil to get out of his room, but Virgil lingered in the doorway.

“Are you ok?” Virgil asked him; not by actually asking of course, but by running his eyes along the angry red marks that stood out against Remus’ pale skin, and the quickly-aborted motion of reaching out to touch them. Remus had recoiled the moment Virgil’s hands twitched in his direction, a clear shout of “Don’t.” 

Virgil made no move to reach out again, so Remus felt safe enough to let his own fingers trail along the red marks that ran the length of his left forearm. They were puffy scrapes made by his own fingernails, just five minutes ago when his grip on reality had collapsed suddenly and Dee wasn’t nearby to pull him out of it. But Remus was back now, and there was no blood, so…

“Yeah,” he met Virgil’s unspoken question with an unspoken answer, just lifting his gaze to lock with Virgil’s. After a moment, Virgil nodded, and stepped past him to continue with his day.

So yeah. It was a weird way to communicate, but it worked. 

And it was better without words, honestly, because his words were so easily muddled. It was like there were wires crossed somewhere between his brain and his mouth, and the things he’d thought but didn’t really mean to say out loud ended up escaping into the world, while the words he’d actually _wanted_ to say got turned around and tossed into the staticky area at the back of his mind. 

Janus didn’t care, seemed to take everything Remus said in stride. And if Logan was bothered by anything he said, he didn't really show it. Remus could easily just stay quiet around the others; but when it came to Roman… not only did Roman refuse to accept his silence, his very presence seemed to make it even harder to say the words he meant to say.

Roman left him alone for most of the first week, which was just as well because Remus was too busy trying to not get lost in the static to really deal with the way being near Roman felt. And then, just when he was starting to feel like he’d fished out enough shards of his sense of self and started piecing them together with whatever the mental equivalent of duct tape was, Janus started acting all strange and twitchy. Which in turn made Remus feel all strange and twitchy, and _that_ was when Roman decided that personal space was no longer necessary. 

It was a little weird right from the very beginning. Remus and Janus were on the couch, where they spent the majority of their days while Janus healed. Janus was reading, and Remus was idly flipping through channels on the television, with nothing better to do and no real inclination to do anything else anyway. He was rambling to Janus, some stream of consciousness about Jeffrey Dahmer, because a true crime documentary he had passed a few channels back had put the thought in his head; this felt familiar, and his mind felt quiet. 

And then Roman wandered in, with a stack of papers balanced precariously in his lap. 

“What are we watching?” he asked brightly. Janus gave him a side-eyed glance, and said nothing. Remus bit off the next slew of Dahmer-related facts, and instead looked to the television to figure out what, in fact, they were watching.

“Something about badly-animated dinosaurs,” he said finally, when he could discern no more from the show his idle channel surfing had landed on. Roman chuckled at that.

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? ‘Dinosaur’ aged pretty well, and let’s be real here, at least it’s no ‘Cars.’”

Remus just blinked at him. Roman paused from unloading his pile of papers onto the coffee table, and gave Remus an incredulous look. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t remember ‘Cars,’” he said, sounding a little strangled. “You hated it so much you walked out of the theater.” 

Remus just shrugged. Roman made grabby hands toward him.

“Gimmie the remote. We’re watching it right now.”

(They did. It was awful.)

After that, Roman took to hanging out with them in the mornings. He would sit on the couch with them, usually with a bright red binder full of papers that he would sometimes scowl at and then start scribbling furiously. A few times, Remus tried to get a glimpse over his shoulder, but he couldn’t read anything on the pages. 

(He stole it and hid in Patton’s room to read it a few days later, and it turned out to be some sort of play about a knight off on a quest to slay a dragon who, in Remus’ opinion, had done nothing wrong.)

So, it was weird, but fine, up until Roman started getting all… _touchy-feely._ A hand on his shoulder was really all it took to make his mind go haywire. All the fragments of the someone else, the person he had been _before,_ came screaming to the front of his brain; meanwhile, that big, looming chunk of himself- the part that Janus said used to be called the Duke- would just start shoveling the before-person back into the static by the handful. Which fucking hurt his brain. So he shrugged off Roman’s touch, clung close to Janus, and tried to ignore the way the static in his mind just kept building and building until his mind felt like a balloon about to burst. 

“Do you remember when we were kids,” Roman started one day, when it was just him and Remus on the couch, because Janus was off pacing the house for what was probably the hundredth time that day. “And they were making us dissect frogs in biology class? You were the only kid who actually got through it all, the rest of us were too grossed out.”

“What’s so gross about a frog?” Remus asked, because no, he didn’t remember that, just like all the other childhood memories Roman had been bringing up recently. “Frogs are cool. Did you know there’s a frog so poisonous it can kill you if you touch it?” 

“I dunno, I think the gross part was the, like. The _cutting it open_ part,” Roman said. Completely ignoring Remus’ cool frog fact. Whatever. Remus just shrugged. 

“But that’s the best part,” he said. “You know, if you cut someone open the right way, you can actually see their heart still beating? That’s pretty cool.” 

He wasn’t sure when Roman’s expression shifted to one of mild horror, but at some point, apparently, it had. Roman left the room pretty quickly after that. 

His shoulder took its damn time healing, too. Patton had been nice and offered to look at it, but Remus still kind of felt the urge to throw most of them across the room if they got too close. He expressed this to Janus, who just nodded like he could relate, and Patton didn’t offer anymore. 

And then, he got _bored._

It took almost three weeks for it to happen, but when it did, it was excruciating. The Duke was used to being bored; he could tell because that chunk of his mind didn’t feel all hot and itchy all of a sudden. But the before-person _hated_ being bored, hated it down to his very core, and it was starting to drive Remus up the wall.

Literally. Logan found him out in the back yard one evening, perched atop the cinderblock wall, watching the cars go by and wondering if he was fast enough to dart between them.

“Remus, what are you doing up there?”

Remus told him. He wasn’t looking, but he could practically _hear_ Logan’s brow go all crinkly. 

“I do not recommend running through traffic, Remus. The road behind our house does only have a thirty-five mile per hour limit, but a collision at even thirty has the potential to be fatal.”

“I wasn’t actually gonna do it,” Remus shot back. “But my brain itches and I’m bored.”

“I… do not believe it is possible for your actual brain to feel itchy,” Logan said slowly. “Is there something in particular you would like to do to alleviate your boredom?” 

“Do you have any wood?” A pause. Remus turned to look down at him. “I mean like the tree kind, not the other kind.”

“What other kind of- oh.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “I don’t believe we do. But we can certainly make a trip to the hardware store if you-”

“Dope,” Remus let himself pitch forward off the wall and rolled through the impact with the ground, so that when he hopped up to his feet, he was unscathed by the five-foot fall. It didn't even hurt his shoulder. “I wanna build a chair.”

Logan looked perturbed. Whether it was due to the drama of getting off the wall, or the chair announcement, he had no idea, but he couldn't think of what else would do it. But then, Logan shrugged. 

“A physical task in which you make something is said to be helpful in trauma recovery.”

“Trauma? Man, I just wanna build a chair.”

Logan gave him a look that made him uncomfortable. Remus backed up a few steps to lean against the wall. 

“You… do realize that what you and Janus have been though is indeed what most would consider trauma, correct?”

Remus suddenly wished Janus were here, because after a few beats of silence, Logan was still looking at him like he wanted an answer. Remus ran his hand along the rough surface of the wall. 

“Yes?” he tried. It didn’t make Logan’s brow uncrinkle. “No? Look, I don’t really know what you want me to say.”

“Remus, you… you’ve been through a lot of terrible things.”

Remus shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t really remember most of ‘em.” He gestured toward his own head. “Too much static up there.”

“That’s extremely common,” Logan said gently. “And it’s ok, it doesn’t mean-”

“So is that a no on the chair, then, Specs?”

Logan sighed. “Well, Virgil was going to repair the damaged drywall in the garage. If you’re bored, I am sure he would appreciate the help.”

Remus left to find Virgil rather quickly, because he really didn’t want to hear Logan call him traumatized again. 

...Not hearing it didn’t make it go away, though. Laying awake that night, he realized… yeah, he was fucking broken, wasn’t he? And how long did people bother to keep broken things around?

How long before the broken things got thrown out?”

(Remus didn’t say it out loud, but he took great satisfaction in watching Janus beat Logan at that game they played with the little wooden pieces. The secondhand vengeance was sweet.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr @threecrowsinatrenchcoat, please come and yell with me/at me.
> 
> Oh boy this last chapter took a hot minute. I knew what I wanted to say but could not for the life of me find the words. But here we are. Things will get worse before they get better. 
> 
> Requests and prompts set in this 'verse are open. If there's anything you want to see, drop it in the comments or send me a tumblr ask!
> 
> Title from "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden, as is the series title.


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